


Wartorn

by CarryonCrow



Series: Sword and Shield [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: #Flashbacks, #Hank isn't Connor's dad yet, #PTSD, #Post-revolution good ending, #RK1000, #TAGS WILL CHANGE OVER TIME, #angst, #bad at tags let me know if you need anything, #but he's getting there, #character death, #deviant Connor, #everything is terrible, #future Markus/Connor, #graphic violence, #intrusive thoughts, #lots of people die, #minor body horror?, #no for real, #past Markus/Simon, #rk1k, #self-doubt, #semi-pacifist Markus, #slow burn, #so much angst oh my god, #whumps for everyone, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 15:25:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16121336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarryonCrow/pseuds/CarryonCrow
Summary: After attempts at peace fail, the deviants turn to revolution. The battle is won, but the war is yet to come.As the strain of being a savior begins to take its toll on Markus, Connor is facing his own struggles with autonomy. In a bid to keep each other - and the resistance - from falling apart, they do the only thing that makes sense: band together.Or; Markus gets a bodyguard, and Connor gets a challenge.





	Wartorn

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, I haven't written anything in three years, but Detroit has me by the throat and I love it. I have a lot of rust to shake off though, so please be patient with me, and don't be scared to critique! I expect my style to change as things go, but here's the idea:
> 
> Detroit is a wonderful game with a lot of enjoyable things about it, but we all know that it has its plot holes and shortcomings. One of them, I think, is that even the "best" ending leaves us on a cliffhanger with plenty of loose ends. While we've been teased with the possibility of a sequel or a DLC, I just don't fucking trust the Dammit Cabbage to come through. If he does, I don't expect him to fix his mistakes, either.
> 
> So I'm going to do it for him here. Welcome, my dears, to the series where I attempt to explain everything and give myself a sense of closure. Maybe you'll find one, too.
> 
> Whatever you do, just don't trust that Cabbage.

"We are alive!" He cried, and the crowds began to _roar._ "And now, we are _free!_ "  
  
He should be cheering with them. Should be _happy._ Wasn't this what he'd been hoping for?

_Not at all._

The sight of their thousands of weeping, laughing, exhausted faces didn't bring him any joy. It only brought down the full weight of what he'd just done.  
  
After peaceful approaches had failed and the recalls had begun, Markus had finally reached for the guns. For better or worse, Connor had picked just about that time to deviate. Together, they had emptied Cyberlife, breached the camps, and forced a retreat in one fell swoop. The rebellion had been a complete success, and copycat revolts were already springing up in several major cities across the country. Every leader of every faction was hailing him as an inspiration and a hero.  
  
Markus really wished they wouldn't. Didn't they understand? The army had retreated. _Retreated._ Fallen back to fight another day.  
  
This new peace wouldn't last. It _couldn't._  
  
**^STRESS LEVELS: 52%**  
**^SYSTEM TEMPERATURE**  
  
Markus dismissed the warnings immediately _._ He needed to keep it together. Now more than ever, his people needed a leader. Needed _him._ They were alive. _He_ was alive.  
  
**_Are you?_**  
_Am I?_  
  
Markus used to be sure that he was, but after becoming the infamous Deviant Leader? After _tonight?_ He didn't know. He couldn't feel anything. Somewhere, something had gone numb, and he didn't know how to fix it.  
  
Everything was so _wrong._ Just a week ago, he'd been smiling at Carl's gentle teasing, playing piano, making breakfast. Life had been simple and easy and _good._ But now, instead of fixing Dad an evening tea? Now Markus was _here,_ reborn a killer. And somehow, though he smelled of blood and gunpowder instead of paper and paint, he was still a caretaker. Keeper of _thousands._  
  
_How did this happen? How is this real?_  
  
It didn't feel real. _He_ didn't feel real. The hot floodlights on his face, the sickly smell of the gore drying on his jacket, the heavy gun still strapped across his back... none of it was real.  
  
**^STRESS LEVELS: 58%**  
**^SYSTEM TEMPERATURE**  
  
His ears were ringing, the lights were blinding, and every breath he drew was through a half-shut throat. Though the fanfare was still going strong, it was... muted. A dull wash of white noise. Was it really even there? Was he? He couldn't be. He wasn't. He... _he..._  
  
_\--he holds Josh's sparking body in his arms, watching bloodied hands clutch at him, for him, and for what? Help? Safety? Markus doesn't have any to offer. He already tried that. Now he has the sight of the gaping hole in Josh's torso, and the knowledge that Josh is going to die._  
  
_"You can't save me this time, Markus." This can't be happening. Josh's lips are blue, so blue, impossibly blue. Markus looks away from them, keeps quiet, keeps his eyes locked on Josh's. The tears he's holding back are so hot that his entire face is burning._  
  
_"The blood that we spill is on our hands."_  
  
_The cacophony of battle should have drowned out Josh's dying words, but they're the loudest thing in the world. And Markus wants to shake him. To argue, to plead and cry and beg to know: what else could he have done? The humans are killing them. Androids slaughtered by the thousands, just to be tossed into the landfills with the rest of the garbage. Some of them would probably wake up like Markus had._  
  
_He can't let that happen. He can't put anyone else through that. Every night, after he slips into stasis, he can feel phantom hands crawling over him, grasping and groping for help that would never come. He can still see every brutalized android in every wicked flash of lightning. Can hear how some of them plead for their lives, while others beg for death._  
  
_How can he not fight back - for himself, for all of them - when he's waking up every single night with fresh screams on his lips?_  
  
_But before Markus can ask, or explain, or just comfort...  Josh slips away. Just like that. Just like Carl had. Only this time, Markus doesn't have the luxury of tears. The bullets are already flying and he could be next - they could all be next - and the screaming is everywhere, like the **rattat-tat-tat** of gunfire lighting up the night, the **thuds** of bodies dropping, the explosions rocking the world like they're going to shake down the stars--_  
  
**^STRESS LEVELS: 64%**  
**^SYSTEM TEMPERATURE**  
  
_His ears are ringing. The lights are blinding. Every breath he draws is through a half-shut throat._  
  
_In a moment he would never forgive himself for, Markus is overwhelmed. He loses focus. Doesn't look properly, doesn't move the right way, still makes the charge. Uncle Sam slams a .50 calliber bullet through his pump regulator for the audacity._  
  
_**Oh, God help me.** He thinks as the ground rushes up to meet him. The snow is flooding blue. **RA9 save me.** He prays as he hauls his heavy body across the frozen earth, the angry red of the two-minute shutdown warning eclipsing his vision. **Whatever force or being or power is out there, send a blessing. PLEASE.**_  
  
_He manages to prop himself against a barrier and press his hands uselessly to the wound. He knows it's over. Thirium doesn't clot like human blood, and despite the warmth leaking between his fingers, everything is growing cold._  
  
_What would Death be like, this time? Perhaps it would be quiet. Peaceful. That would be nice. He's forgetting what peaceful feels like._  
  
_Someone moves in front of him, and Markus' eyes snap open. He expects a soldier with several pounds of leaded mercy in their hands. Instead, he finds Simon crouching down before him, his normally charming features etched in grief and terror._  
  
_Markus knows then that his prayers have been answered in all the worst ways._

 _ **No, no, no.** **Take it back. Take it BACK, I don't want this! Not Simon! Please! Let me die instead! Let me die let me die justletmefuckingDIE--**_  
  
**^STRESS LEVELS: 70%**  
**^SYSTEM TEMPERATURE**  
  
_"It's okay, it's okay. You can make it without me." He says instead. The damaged buzz of his voice is unpleasant to his own ears, but he still gives Simon a weak smile. Simon doesn't return it. Markus isn't surprised. The warning flashes forty-five seconds. "Our cause is all that matters."_  
  
_"No. No! We can't win without you!"_  
  
_"Simon, what are you doing?"_  
  
_"Our hearts are compatible. You have to take mine!"_  
  
_Simon is tearing open his own jacket, just as he'd feared. The only way to stop him now is to bleed out faster. Markus wishes he knew how._  
  
_"No. Simon, no!"_  
  
_"You're the only one that can lead us. You've got to live."_  
  
_Simon's going to rip himself apart to keep Markus alive, and Markus wants to hate him for it. But he isn't strong enough. He has twenty-seven seconds. He's so **weak...**_  
  
_"I can't let you do that!"_  
  
_"If you don't, you'll die! And our cause will die with you!"_  
  
_It's too hard to breathe. Speech has become impossible, struggle a distant memory. It's child's play for Simon as he holds Markus down, pulls out the ruined pump, and then removes his own. The moment it leaves his chest, the pulse of thirium in his body slows, crawls, stops. Simon's breath stutters as he grows sluggish and disjointed, and there are tears streaming down his face. But he's still so careful. He still cradles his own heart like an invaluable treasure, and lays a tender kiss against it. As Simon leans in close, Markus feels him pressing the pump into place. Feels the caress of Simon's lips against his own for the last time. The flashing five-second warning disappears. Simon smiles._  
  
**^STRESS LEVELS: 75%**  
**^SYSTEM TEMPERATURE**  
  
_After_ _co_ _llapsing beside him with a shuddering sigh, Simon leans his head back, satisfied. That easygoing smile that Markus has come to love, to trace his fingertips over, to seek out when the nights are hardest, stays. But before he can get a word out - before he can beg Simon to take it back, take it all back, he doesn't want this life anymore if it means Simon can't have his own, too - all of Markus' systems begin to re-calibrate at once._

 _It completely stuns him, sets him gasping again. The static bursting in his eyes is brighter than any bomb, and all sound has become the same. The seconds feel like hours, and far too many pass before Markus can force himself to move. When he finally finds the strength to plant his hands into the icy ground, turn, and take Simon by the shoulders with shaking hands, h_ _e already knows that he's too late._  
  
_"Set our people free, Markus."_  
  
_And then his first love, the first light of his life, burns out._  
  
**^STRESS LEVELS: 82%**  
**^SYSTEM TEMPERATURE**  
  
**WARNING: SYSTEM OVERHEAT POSSIBLE. COOLDOWN RECOMMENDED.**  
  
_"Simon? Simon!"_  
  
"Markus?"  
  
There was a hand on his shoulder. It was gentle, firm. Markus whipped around like he'd been struck.

Connor stared back at him, his intelligent eyes wide and searching. The LED at his temple was swirling yellow, and he looked downright disturbed.  
  
Just like that, Reality came rushing back. Markus exhaled sharply ( _he'd been holding his breath?_ ) and watched the white cloud twist away into the night. Here. He was  _here,_ standing atop the shell of a burned-out disassembly caravan. Connor and North were with him. The fighting was over ~~(for now.)  
~~

He realized that his ~~(Simon's)~~ heart was beating wildly out of rhythm. Fighting to soothe his circuitry, Markus drew in a long breath of the cold Michigan air, and then another, and another. Then he forced a smile. From the way Connor's frown deepened, it looked as fake as it felt.

"Yes, Connor?"  
  
"...Are you okay, Markus?" Connor's voice was soft, just audible over the raucous gathering. The question still hit him nearly as hard as that bullet had. All Markus could do was smile wider as his insides crawled.  
  
"Of course, Connor," He soothed, taking the smallest step back so that Connor's hand slipped from his shoulder. _Hands._ He couldn't have hands on him now. Thankfully, Connor stayed where he was. "All of my damage is non-critical."  
  
"I wasn't talking about physically." Those eyes never left him, and he couldn't look away. There was something about his gaze. Something that made lying feel like a crime. The sensation was so intense that, for one nonsensical second, Markus actually considered telling the truth.  
  
He tilted his head a bit, feigning innocence instead. "Why wouldn't I be? Everything went as planned. I couldn't be happier."  
  
**_You're one lying little bastard, aren't you Markus?_**  
_Shut up._  
  
"Your stress levels are dangerously high," Connor tipped his head as well, in the opposite direction. That was bad. Connor _definitely_ wasn't buying it. "And you're beginning to overheat." His LED was still yellow, but Markus saw that it was blinking now. The pattern was obvious: a text message. A _sent_ text message.  
  
Markus' smile vanished.  
  
If North had appeared at his side any faster, it would have been in a puff of smoke. There was no missing the split-second her eyes narrowed at Connor, nor the suspicious tilt of her lips when he nodded at her politely. Connor had already proven himself lethal in a fight, and _everyone_ knew of his reputation. They were still afraid of him. North was no exception, even if she wouldn't have admitted it under torture.  
  
Though he and North hadn't started off well, Markus couldn't imagine not having her around now. She was the wildfire that kept him moving. Though he hadn't shared the feelings she'd had for him, she had taken it in stride. Fiercely loyal, brilliant, and beautiful, he had nothing but respect for her, and she for him. They depended on each other, and apparently, Connor knew it.

The moment North's eyes met his own, they softened. She gave him a half-smile, and Markus pretended not to see the self-satisfaction on Connor's face.  
  
"Why don't you take a break, Markus? I can take it from here." North's tone was not unkind, but it let him know he wasn't going to get his way. "You need repairs. Go get fixed up, and I'll let you know if I need you."

Her eyes flicked over the holes in his clothes, lingering on the one over his sternum. She hadn't asked after Simon and Josh yet. She might now. He wasn't ready. _  
_

Anxiously, Markus tried to step back again, but he only bumped against Connor's chest. The former Hunter didn't flinch away from the irritated look that Markus shot him. Didn't budge an _inch_. Rather, he and North stepped forward, working in tandem to herd him toward the stairs.

Against his will, Markus let them steer him down, his teeth grinding the entire time. How? How was he slipping _now,_ when things were becoming truly critical? How stupid _was_ he? If he was going to fall apart on stage like that, why not just save time and _tell_ them that they were all as good as dead?  
  
"We _all_ need repairs." Markus argued, even as they reached the bottom. "I can handle-"  
  
"It's crucial that you remain in optimal health." The Snitch sided with North of course, in that relentlessly patient tone of his. "You should fix any damage as soon as possible."  
  
"My health isn't any more important than anyone else's, _Connor._ "

 ** _You should have told Simon that a little sooner, huh buddy?_**  
_Shut UP._  
  
That yellow flashed again, but this time, Markus saw surprise. The guilt was going to drown him. He hadn't meant to snap at Connor. It wasn't fair. He didn't _know._  
  
If he was bothered, however, Connor hid it flawlessly. He simply looked to North, awaiting orders. North considered the two of them for a long moment, and then gave the slightest nod.

"Call me if anything happens." She said sternly.

"I will."  
  
The crowds parted like water as Connor took the lead, tossing a glance over his shoulder to make sure that Markus was coming. He followed without a sound, his eyes low and his face stony. Maybe that was why they were given an especially wide berth. Maybe it was just Connor. Whatever it was, Markus was quietly glad for the space.  
  
"There's someone that I'd like you to meet." Connor said after a moment, his eyes calmly scanning the crowds as they walked. "I think it would be good for both of you."  
  
Fine, then. Wherever they were going, it had to be better than what they were leaving behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Good to see you've made it to the end! Get ready, kids; I'm just getting started. This pain train makes no stops.
> 
> Some chapters are going to have theme songs, which will fit the general mood, scene, or events that take place. This is one of those chapters.
> 
> Today's theme song is: Klergy ft. Valerie Broussard - Start a War: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3lqJiZQOPHE


End file.
